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The Denison review. [volume] (Denison, Iowa) 1867-current, February 03, 1904, Image 6

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The Denison Review
E. F. TUCKER, Publisher.
Pretty Soon and By and By
Call us day by day
They arc cunning, they are shy,
Stealing time away:
Comes grave Opportunity
Calling to us: "Rise,
Gird yourselves and follow me
Out where glory lies
But we linger, listening
While the precious moments fly.
To the luring song they sing,
Pretty Soon and By and By.
There are duties we have set
Four ourselves to do
Most of mine are waiting yet,
How is it with you?
There are kindly acts we mean
To perform some day,
There are stains that we shall clean
From our hearts away,
But we linger, loth to go,
And we listen, you and I,
To their crooning soft and low,
Pretty Soon and By and By.
Pretty Soon and By and By
Seldom help to roll
Back obstructions hard and high
That shut out the goal:
They are Firens singing where
Failure's wasting time,
They have faces that are fair,
But their feet are slime!
All around them bleaching bones
Of their foolish victims lie
Woe is in their luring tones,
Pretty Soon and By and By.
—S. E. Kiser, in Chicago Record-Herald.
A Daughter
of the Sioux
Copyright, 1903, by The Hobart Company.
"Look out for this man, corporal!"
he called, to a shouting young troop
er. "See that no harm comes to him."
Then quickly he ran on to the huddle
of travois. Something assured him
she could not be far away. The stout
Hrag litter held another young war
rior, sullen and speechless like the
foremost. The next bore a desper
ately wounded brave whose bloodless
lips were compressed in agony and
dumb as those %f the dead. About
these cowered, shivering, and whim
pering, two ui three terror-stricken
squaws, one of them with a round
eyed papoose staring at her back.
A pony lay struggling in tfie snow
close by. Half a dozen rough soldier
bands were dragging a stricken rider
from underneath. Half a dozen more
were striving to control the wild
plungings of another mettlesome
beast, whose rider, sitting firmly
astride, lashed first at his quivering
flank and then at the fur gauntleted
bands—even at the laughing, beard
ed faces—sure sign of another squaw,
and a game one. Far out to the front
the crackle of carbine and rifle told
that Webb was driving the scattered
braves before him—that the comrade
squadron was coming their way—that
Bear Cliff had been sought by the
Sioux in vain—that Indian wiles and
strategy, Indian pluck and staying
power, all had more than met their
match. Whatever the fate of Lame
Wolf's fighting force, now pressed by
Henry's column, far in the southward
bills, hex-e in sight of the broad Big
Horn valley, the white chief had
struck a vital blow. Village, villagers,
wounded and prisoners were all the
spoil of the hated soldiery. Here at
the scene of Blake's minor affair
there appeared still in saddle just one
undaunted, unconquered amazon
whose black eyes flashed through the
woolen hood that hid the rest of
her face, whose lips had uttered as
yet no sound, but from whom two
soldiers recoiled at the cry of a third.
"Look at the hand of her, fellers
It's whiter than mine!"
"That's all right, Lanigan," an
swered the jovial voice of the leader
they loved and laughed with. "Hold
that pony steady. Now, by your la
dyship's leave," and two long sinewy
arms went circling about the shrink
ing rider's waist, and a struggling
form was lifted straightway out of
the saddle and deposited, not too
gracefully, on its moccasined feet.
"We will remove this one impediment
to your speech," continued Blake,
whereat the muffling worsted was
swiftly unwound, "and then we will
listen to our meed of thanks. Ah, no
wonder you did not need a side-sad
dle that night at Frayne. You ride
admirably a califourclion—My com
pliments, Mademoiselle LaFleur—or
should I say—Madame Moreau."
For all answer Blake received one
quick, stinging slap in the face from
that mittenlcss little right hand.
Thanksgiving day at Frayne! Much
of the garrison was still afield, bring
ing back to their lines, and, let us
hope, to their senses, the remnants
of Stabber's band, chased far into the
Sweetwater Hills before they would
stop, while Henry's column kept
Iame Wolf in such active movement
the misnamed chieftain richly won
fits later sobriquet "The Skipper.
The general had come whirling back
from Beecher in his Concord wagon,
1 meet Mr. Hay as they bore that
invalid homeward from the Big Horn.
Between the fever-weakened trader
and the famous frontier soldier there
bad been brief conference—all that
ihe doctors felt they could allow—
and then the former had been put to
bed under the care of his devoted
wife, while' the latter, without so
wuch as sight of a pillow, had set
orth again out' S'veetwot^.r nay to
wind tip the campaign. This time he
went in saddle, sending his own team
over the range of the Medicine Bow
to carry a convalescent subaltern to
the side of a stricken father the
sender, ignorant, possibly, of the post
commanders prohibition ignoring it,
if, as probable, it was known to him.
The good old doctor himself had
bundled the grateful lad and sent a
special hospital attendant with him.
Mrs. Dade and her devoted allies up
the row had filled with goodies a
wonderful luncheon basket, while
Mrs. Hay had sent stores of wine for
the use of both invalids, and had
come down herself to see the start,
for, without a word indicative of re
proof, the general had bidden Flint
remove the blockade, simply saying
he would assume all responsibility,
both for Mrs. Hay and the young In
dian girl, given refuge under the
trader's roof until the coming of her
own people still out with Stabber's
band. Flint could not fathom it. He
could only obey.
And now, with the general gone and
Beverly Field away, with Hay home
and secluded by orders from all ques
tioning or other extraneous worry,
with the wounded soldiers safely
trundled into hospital, garrison inter
est seemed to center for the time
mainly in that little Ogallala maid—
Flint's sole Sioux captive, who was
housed, said the much interrogated
domestic, in Mrs. Hay's own room in
stead of Miss Flower's, while the lady
of the house, when she slept at all,
occupied a sofa near her husband's
Then came the tidings that Blake,
with the prisoners from No Wood
Creek and Bear Cliff was close at
hand, and everybody looked with
eager eyes for the coming across the
snowy prairie of that homeward
bound convoy—that big village of the
Sioux, with its distinguished captives,
wounded and unwounded one of the
former, the young sub-chief Eagle
Wing, alias Moreau—one of the latter
a self-constituted martyr, since she
was under no official restraint—Nan
ette Flower, hovering »ver about the
litter bearing that sullen and still de
fiant brave, whose side she refused to
Not until they reached Fort
Frayne not until the surgeon, after
careful examination, declared there
was no need of taking Moreau into
hospital—no reason why he should
not be confined in the prison room of
the guardhouse—were they able to
induce the silent, almost desperate
girl to return to her aunt. Not until
Nanette realized that her warrior
was to be housed within wooden walls
whence she would be excluded, could
Mrs. Hay, devoted to the last, per
suade the girl to reoccupy her old
room and to resume the dress of
civilization. Barring that worsted
hood, she was habited like a chief
tain's daughter, in gaily beaded and
embroidered garments, when recap
tured by Blake's command. Once
within the trader's door, she had shut
herself in her old room, the second
floor front, refusing to see anybody
from outside the house, unless she
could be permitted to receive visits
from the captive Sioux, and this the
major, flintily, forebade. It ivas
nightfall when the litter-bearers
reached the post, Hay's rejoicing
mules braying unmelodious ecst.acy at
sight of their old stable. It was dark
when the'wounded chief was borne
into the guard-house, uttering not a
sound, and Nanette was led within
the trader's door, yet some one had
managed to see her face, for the story
went all over the wondering post that
very night—women flitting with it
from door to door—that every vestige
of her beauty was gone—she looked
at least a dozen years older. Blake,
when questioned, after the first rap
ture of the home-coming had sub
sided, would neither aflirin nor deny.
'"She would neither speak to me nor
harken," said he, whimsically. "The
only thing she showed was teeth and
Two days after the safe lodgment
of Eagle Wing behind the bars, the
telegrams were coming by dozens,
and one week after that deserved in
carceration, Fort Frayne heard with
mild bewilderment the major's or
der for Moreau's transfer to the hos
pital. By that time letters, too, were
beginning to come, and, two nights
after this remo\al to the little room
but lately occupied by Lieut. Field—
this very Thanksgiving night, in fact
—the single sentry at the door stood
attention t» the commanding ollicer
who in person ushered in a womanly
form enveloped in hooded cloak, and
with bowed head Nanette Flower
pasSed wi'liin the guardea portal,
which then closed behind her and left
her alone with her wounded brave.
Jmt. jais won .sou-xlirir en the
infantry bugle, Esther Dade sat read
ing fairy stories at the children's
bedside in the quarters of Sergeant
Foster, of her father's company.
There had been Thanksgiving dinner
with Mrs. Ray, an Amazonian, feast
since all their lords were still away
on service and Sandy Ray and Billy,
Jr., were perhaps too young to count.
Dinner was all over by eight o'clock,
and, despite some merry games, the
youngsters' eyes were showing symp
toms of the sandman's coming, when
that privileged character, Hogan,
Ray's long-tried trooper now turned
major domo, appeared at the door
way of the little army parlor. He
had been bearer of a lot of goodies
to the children among the quarters
of the married soldiers, and now,
would Mrs. Dade please speak with
Mrs. Foster, who had come over with
him, and Mrs. Dade departed for the
kitchen forthwith. Presently she re
turned. "I'm going back awhile with
Mrs. Foster," said she. "She's sitting
up to-night with poor Mrs. Wing,
who—" But there was no need of
explanation. They all knew. They
had laid so recently their wreaths
of evergreen on the grave of the gal
lant soldier who fell, fighting at the
Elk, and now another helpless little
soul had come to bear the buried
name, and all that were left for
mother and babe was woman's bound
less charity. It was Thanksgiving
night, and while the wail of the be
reaved and stricken went up from
more than one of these humble tehe
ments below the eastward bluff, there
were scores .of glad and grateful
hearts that lifted praise and thanks
giving to the throne on high, even
though they knew not at the mo
ment that they, too, might, even
then, be robbed of all that stood be
tween them and desolation. Once it
happened in the story of our hard
fighting, hard used little army that
a bevy of fair young wives, nearly
half a score in number in all the
bravery of their summer toilets, sat
in the shadow of the flag, all smiles
and gladness and applause, joining
in the garrison festivities on the na
tion's natal day, never, dreaming of
the awful news that should fell them
ere the coming of another sun that
one and all they had been widowed
more than a week that the men they
loved, whose names they bore, lay
hacked and mutilated beyond recog
nition within sight of those very hills
where now the men from Frayne
were facing the same old foe. In the
midst of army life we are, indeed,
in death, and the thanksgiving of
loving ones about the fireside for
mercies thus far shown, is mingled
ever with the dread of what the mor
row may unfold.
"Let me go too, mamma," was
Esther's prompt appeal, as she heard
her mother's words. "I can put the
children to bed while you nnd Mrs.
Foster are over there."
And so with Hogan, lantern bear
ing, mother and daughter had fol
lowed the sergeant's wife across the
broad, snow-covered parade had
passed without comment, thofigh
each was thinking of the new inmate,
the brightly-lighted hospital building
on the edge of the plateau, and de
scended the winding pathway to the
humble quarters of the married sol
diers, nestling in the sheltered flats
between the garrison proper and the
bold bluffs that again close bordered
the rushing stream. And here at
Sergt. Foster's doorway Esther part
ed from the elders, and was wel
comed by shrieks of joy from three
sturdy little cherubs—the sergeant's
olive branches, and here, as the last
notes of tattoo went echoing away
under the vast and spangled sky, one
by one her charges closed their
drooping lids and dropped to sleep
and left their gentle friend and
reader to her own reflections.
There was a soldier dance that
night in one of the vacant mess
rooms. Flint's two companies were
making the best of their isolation,
and found, as is not utterly uncom
mon, quite a few maids and matrons
among the households of the absent
soldierj' quite willing to be consoled
and comforted. There were bright
lights, therefore, further along the
edge of the steep, beyond those of
the hospital, and the squeak of fiddle
and drone of 'cello, mingled with the
plaintive piping of the flute, were
heard at intervals through the si
lence of the wintry night. No tramp
of sentry broke the hush about the
little rift between the heights—the
major holding that none was neces
sary where there were so many dogs
—most of the soldiers' families had
gone to the dance all of the younger
children were asleep even the dogs
were still, and so, when at ten o'clock
Esther tiptoed from the children's
bedside and stood under the star
light, the murmur of the Platte was
the only sound that reached licr ears
until away over at the southwest
gate the night guards began the
long-drawn heralding of the hour.
"Ten o'clock and all's well" it went,
from post to post along the west and
northward front, but when Number
Six, at the quartermaster's store
house near the southeast corner,
should have taken up the cry where
it was dropped by Number Five, afar
over near the flagstaff, there was
unaccountable silence. Six did not
utter a sound.
Looking up from the level of "Suds
town," as it had earlier been named,
Esther could eee the black hulk of
the storehouse close to the edge of
the plateau. Between its westward
gable end and the porch of the liis
pital lay some "0 yards of open space,
and through this gap now gleamed a
spangled section of the western
heavens. Along the bluff, just under
the crest, run a pathway that circled
the southeastward cruer and led
away to the trader's piore, south of
llie post. Tradition Aad it that the
track was worn by night raiders,
bearing contraband fluids from store
ta Jjarraclfs in the days before such
traffic was killed by that common
sense promoter of temperance—so
berness and chastity—the post ex
change. Along that bluff line, from
the storehouse toward the hospital,
invisible, doubtless, from either build
ing or from the bluff itself, but
thrown in sharp relief against that
rectangular inlet of starry sky, two
black figures, crouching and bearing
some long, flat object between them,
swift and noiseless were speeding
toward the hospital. The next in
stant they were lost in the black
background of that building. Then,
as suddenly and a moment later, one
of them reappeared, just for a mo
ment, against the brightly lighted
window—the southernmost window
on the eastward side—the window of
the room that had been Beverly
Field's—the window of the room now
given over to Eagle Wing, the Sioux
—the captive for whose safe keeping
a special sentry within the building,
and this strangely silent Number Six
without, were jointly responsible.
Then that silhouetted figure was
blotted from her sight in general
darkness, for the lights within as
suddenly went out.
And at that very moment a sound
smote upon the ear, unaccountable
at that hour and at that side of the
garrison—hoofbeats swiftly coming
down in the hollow from the east
ward bluff—hoofbeats and low, ex
cited voices. Foster's little house was
southernmost of the. settlement. The
ground was open between it and the
heights, and despite the low, cautious
tones, Esther heard the foremost
rider's muttered angering words.
"Dam fool! Crazy! Heap Cra2y!
Too much hurry. Ought t' let him call
off first!" Then an answer in gut
teral Sioux.
And then in an instant it dawned
upon the girl that here was new
crime, new bloodshed, perhaps, and
a plot to free a villainous captive.
Her first thought was to scream for
aid, but what aid could she summon?
Not a man was within hail except
these, the merciless haters of her
race and name. To scream would be
to invite their ready knives to her
heart—to the heart of any woman
who might rush to her succor. The
cry died in her throat, and, trem
bling with dread and excitement, she
clung to the door post and crouched
and listened, for stifled mutterings
could be heard, a curse or two in
vigorous English, a stamping of im
patient ponies, a warning in a wo
man's tone. Then, thank God! Up
at the storehouse corner a light came
dancing into view. In honest soldier
tones boomed out the query "What's
the matter, Six?" and then, followed
by a scurry of hoofs, a mad lashing
of quirts and scramble and rush of
frightened steeds, a cursing of fu
rious tongues, her own brave young
voice rang out on the night. "This
way, sergeant! Help—Quick!"
Black forms of mounts and riders
sped desperately away, and then with
all the wiry, sinewy strength of
her lithe and slender form, Esther
hurled herself upon another slender
figure, speeding after these, afoot.
Desperately she clung to it in spite
of savage blows and strainings. And
so they found her, as forth they came
—a rush of shrieking, startled, can
die-bearing women—of bewildered
and unconsciously blasphemous men
of the guard—her arms locked firmly
about a girl in semi-savage garb. The
villain of the drama had been whisked
away, leaving the woman who sought
to save him to the mercy of the foe.
[To Be Continued.]
An Air-Tight Fit.
Mrs. Jennings and her city cousin
were exchanging news of their old
school friends. "How about Lucy
Morse?" asked the cousin. "Has she
kept on growing fatter and fatter?"
"Well, all I'll say is this," said Mrs.
Jennings. "Annie Fall told me last
year that when Lucy sent home from
Nashua, where she was nursing her
uncle, to have a silk waist made, An
nie realized she hadn't got any meas
ures and then she remembered that
the last time Lucy was there she
stood up by the big air-tight stove,
and Annie remarked (to herself) the
resemblance between 'em. And she
took the measure of that air-tight,
and cut in a mite for the waist line—
'bout as much as a knife marks warm
molasses candy—and made the waist
accordingly, sent it on, and Lucy
wrote back it was an elegant fit."—
Youth's Companion.
The Thief of Time.
The emperor of Germany is a strict
disciplinarian, and his power makes
the penalty for being lax in his serv
ice severe and without appeal. For
some time, says an English paper, he
noticed that his barber came always
few minutes late. Finally the em
peror gave the delinquent a fine, gold
chronometer, and urged him to use
"Have you still the chronometer I
gave you?"'
"Yes, your majesty, here it is," re
plied the barber, taking it from hit
"Give it to me," said the emperor.
"It is evidently of no uae to you, and
you may have this one instead."
So saying he placed the handsome
g»ld chronometer on his dressing ta
ble, and handed the amazed barber
a nickle-plated watch worth about
five shillings.—Youth's Companion.
Ail He Mked.
August Manns, the eiinent musical
conductor, was asked by the London
Chronicle for some words from liln
pen to be added '.o a notice of his
seventy-seventh birthday, and in an
swer the conductor sent the following
musical litany: "From ambitious
singers with bad voices,- from fiddleri
who play out of time, frojn Wagnux
disciples without talent, good Lor A.
deliver me."
Some Pretty Garments for the
Misses' School Age.
Seasonable Mode* Are in Keeping
with a Straight nnd Xatnral Fignre
—Attractive Frocks and Blonsca
—A Debutante's Coat.
UCKY young people indeed
are the girls of the present
day, since Fashion at all
events so far as they are con
cerned, seems to have ranged
herself on the side of every­
thing that is dainty and pretty, and yet,
at the same time, sensibly comfortable
and hygienic in the best sense of the
word. One reads sensational stories in
the daily press from time to time con
cerning school girls who are tortured by
tight lacing, but judging only from one's
own general observation, the school girl
of to-day is a perfectly healthy young
creature, and absolutely innocent of any
thing so foolish as tight lacing. She dis
tinguishes herself in the gymnasium,
she plays basket ball, swims and rows,
wearing for all these exercises garments
that are eminently suitable, and there
fore becoming. Such healthy, outdoor
lives as those which are led by the
typical American school girls of to-day
would be utterly out of the question if
they were the miserable victims of tight
lacing, by night and by day, as some
people nowadays would have us believe,
A certain amount of support in the
way of a corset, preferably one which is
arranged with shoulder straps, is un
doubtedly advantageous in the case of a
growing girl, but anything in the way
of pulling-in at the waist should be most
carefully avoided, since, quite apart
from any consideration of the injury
done by compression to the respiratory
organs, Fashion has decided in favor of
a straight and natural figure, rather
than a nipped-in waist, so that absolutely
nothing is gained by this foolish habit
of tight lacing. At the same time, there
is no need at all for a girl to allow her
figure to be slovenly or untidy in appear
ance for she can be perfectly neat and
trim, and yet allow herself ample
breathing space.
And this brings me to the considera
tion of one of our sketches, wherein may
be seen a smart afternoon frock for a
miss, very chic and up to date, and yet
emphatically graceful and comfortable,
since there is nothing about it to impede
the wearer's movements in the least de
gree. The material chosen is one of
those fine soft cashmeres or woollen fa
brics of the zibeline kind, and which
are really ideal fabrics for young girls'
gowns. As far as color is concerned, I
would suggest a warm tone of deep crim
son, as being a shade which will suit
both dark and fairalike. The deep point
ed yoke and the long cuffs could be made
either in the material itself, drawn up on
cords, or'in soft silk, matching exactly
the color of the cashmere. Little rounds
of the gathered silk or material are also
sewn on to the yoke and cuffs at in
tervals, while the two flounces which
adorn the skirt are only very slightly
full, and are both headed with gathtr
Ings drawn up on cords. The wide soft
waistbelt should be of Lottisine silk rib
bon, some shades darker than the ma
terial itself. The'way In which the joke
fs arranged to extend ovrr the shoulder,
pivingan epauletteoffect,should
be noted as tine of the prettiest ana ^ost
novel featvves of this charming little
It is not quite EO easy as it may at
seem to find new and practical ideas fop
school girls' winter blouses, since so
many of the prettiest notions of the sea
son, with their elaborate lace insertions
and openwork hair-pin stitching, are
quite unsuitable for bodices, which, aft
er all, must necessarily submit to a cer
tain amount of rough usage and hard
wear. For the making of those two pret
ty blouses, which our artist has specially,
designed for the benefit of the girls, our
material, partly because it is absolutely
unshrinkable, and partly also because
durability is one of its many virtues.
The new designs this season include a
wide variety of dainty -patterns in pale
colorings as well as in dark useful
shades, so that there need be no difliculty,
in finding something to suit everybody's
Of the two blouses sketched the one on
the left might be in cream viyella, spot
ted with crimson, or white utility has
to be considered, dark navy blue spotted
with white. The tucked yoke gives a
very becoming effect to this blouse,
while the neck is finished with a turn
over collar in hemstitched linen, and a
pretty tie of soft black satin ribbon, ar
ranged in two bows, one some little dis
tance below the other. The second
blouse, on the righthand side of the pic
ture, might be made in any kind of fig
ured or even tartan viyella, of which, by,
the way, various shades have been:
brought out especially for winter wear.
The pretty fichu effect of this blouse is
brought about by the introduction of two
flat tucks, or crossway bands, sewn on
to the front of the bodice, with a herring
bone stitch in floss silk. These bands
narrow down almost to a point at the
waist, where the blouse is allowed
to pouch slightly over a soft belt
of black satin ribbon. As a finish'
to this blouse there is a pretty collar ofl
embroidered lawn, cut out in scallops
over a black satin ribbon tie.
In the matter of walking skirts, the
miss will do well to provide herself with
sometlnhg useful either in black or navy
serge, made with box plaits, stitched'
down firmly from the waist to the knee,
and then allowed to flow out, with a cer
tain amount of fulness, but not made
longer, of course, in any case, than ankle
length. Another pretty skirt is gathered
very slightly into the waist all the way
round, and then finished near the hem,
with three flat tucks of the material,
each tuck headed by a narrow band
closely stitched. Asa finish at the waist,
no matter what the skirt may be, noth
ing is prettier at the moment than thoso
belts which are made in very soft suede.
These bands are left quite wide in tha
center, but not folded or draped in any
way. They are simply allowed to ruck
themselves, as it were, round the figure,
and are then drawn in to fit the waist la
front by a cunning arrangement of small
straps and buckles in a flr«ner kind of
Great variety is permissible just now
in themat'er of millinery tnd there are
many neat hats, both in hard and in soft
felt, which are specially suitable tor
girls. The three-cornered marquise
shapes in felt are very generally becom
ing, and need little in the way of trim
ming beyond a binding of velvet or silk
braid along the edge of the brim, and
a smart cockade rosette on one side, sur
mounted by a brush aigrette.
But to turn for a moment from the
modes for girls of school age to the de
butants gowned inthe best that papa can
afford, and making her bow to thesocial
world at evening entertainments, let us
look at the dainty evening coat of fig
ured silk. The picture tells the story of
this dainty garment better than words
can, but we can say that it is trimmed
with lace ruching and chiffon roses and
finished with velvet and zibeline tails.
Keeiliif( Ahead of the I'roceNKlon.
"Why don't you try to go' ahead io
the world?"
"Mister," said Meandering Milm, "it's
a terrible t'ing to lead a pereession.
I've seen de drum major steppin' along
grand an' gorgeous an' lookin' like de
whole outfit was his willin' subjecks.
But de truth is dat he's got to keep
movin', for if he ever gits tired dat
whole pereession is goin' to march
right over his prostrate form, wit' de
band playin' 'Hail Columbia' jes' like
not'in' had happened. Dat's why I ain't
ambitious. Me for de tail end, wit' de
push carts ap' de grocery wagons, ev
ery time."—Washington Star.
Cnr Fare in lierlln.
The American woman in Berlin pays
about $1.50 a month for a street car
ticket. This bears her photograph and
must be shown on demand. The bearer
can board a car as often as she pleases
and at any point in the city where thei
cars pass. The ticket is good for th«
month. If she does r.ot take $1.50
worth of rides it is her own lookout
nnd if she tal^es more it in all one to
the railroad company.

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